


Roulette

by Mems



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Gun play, Kink, M/M, avilero, but mostly they're dangerous, weapons can be kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mems/pseuds/Mems
Summary: Avilio likes to play games. His just happen to be more dangerous than others.





	Roulette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corrosive_Serenity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corrosive_Serenity/gifts).



> Nothing like a little gun play to bring you... closer... #logic. Written as a commission for a good friend of mine. If you'd like to take a look at my commission information, feel free to take a look [here](https://akutagawasuggestions.tumblr.com/commissions)

_It’s all fun and games, until someone gets hurt_ /

He remembers the phrase well; something his father would say to him in his reckless youth. He could remember it in the concern over him climbing far too high into the family tree for his father’s comfort, or the outright terrified _anger_ of Testa Lagusa discovering his little Angelo was playing on the tracks again, tempting fate, tempting getting hurt, tempting others to follow his path.

 _Child’s play._ Young foolishness. Innocence in the ignorance of the dangers he brought upon himself and others. Things he had long since graduated from, though he had to wonder sometimes; what would father say to the games he plays now? How he flirts with death playing with the very men who had him killed, held the gun against his head and pulled the trigger…

***

The gun presses between his lips and past his teeth, and he lets his tongue slide against the underside of the barrel, just a hint of something intimate. It’s stark cold against him, in the way the cavern of his mouth is hot and fogs up the surface in his breaths, and purely metallic in a way that makes him wonder if perhaps he’s lost this round of roulette. Biting metal on his tongue – it’s almost blood-iron. _Almost._

The click just seconds before wasn’t quite a _bang,_ though, and the flash in the set of eyes across from him in the crowd of a dozen Vanetti men isn’t a glint of concern so much it is a twinkle of interest settling above something a little deeper and darker in those deceptively light blues. Just another part of the game, really, as far as Avilio is concerned. The baiting. The playing. And Nero Vanetti was truly baited by this idea of _play._

Avilio makes a point of withdrawing the gun, slow, letting his lips cling to the metal like he’s sad to let it go, like he wants it in his mouth and down his throat and choking out his life. Spit trails along the barrel, slick and shiny, leaving a bridge of it from those longing lips right down to the muzzle. Slight, almost not even there, the tip of his tongue flicks along the end of it, circled around where a bullet could have killed him, but didn’t.

All the while, Nero watches. _Baited._

Right where he wants him.

***

His door opens, and he’s waited for it, anticipated it. There’s a clatter as the knob bangs against the wall and then another snap when it’s hastily shut. The footfalls that follow are staggered, uneven. They stop just in front of him. He sees the toes of familiar shoes, but he doesn’t look up to acknowledge their owner.

“You don’t play fair.”

“I don’t remember ever saying that I did.”

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“You expect me to apologize for that?”

Back and forth, his hand slides over the gun in his hand. Caressing. Loving strokes laying down polish beneath cloth. Shining up slick to perfection. Nero stands before him, expectant, probably intoxicated if the slur at the end of his words and the tang of booze is any indication. Avilio glances up, disinterest feigned in the blank stare he gives Nero. The other stares down at him, pink-cheeked and glassy eyed, and with a tilt of his head Avilio drags his gaze from Nero’s face down his torso, right down to his cock as it strains within his pants.

_Too easy._

Triumph is hidden as he goes back to his gun. Caressing. _Stroking._ Like a lover in his hands. He can feel the impatience roll from Nero and he counts how long it takes him to let it get to him.

_One… two… three…_

Nero shifts from one foot to the other as Avilio’s fingers curl and slide over the gun.

_Four… five…_

Breath drawn in as his palm follows and his fist closes around it.

_Six…_

Nero steps forward when he properly strokes it.

He doesn’t even make it to ten before he’s further encroaching in Avilio’s space. Avilio can scent stronger the alcohol that clings to Nero. It’s a wonder he can get it up at all – maybe he intentionally kept himself from drinking past his limit. That would make it more interesting… more fun… see just how much further he can pull Nero toward him. Make him want. Make him fall.

Fun. Games. Hurt. That order. _Always_ that order.

His hands only stop when Nero’s own covers them. He allows a smirk, just to himself – he can’t help it, it’s just too good. He looks up, eyes glowing like the predator he is. Nero’s are dark, blue blocked out by lusty black, pupils blown too wide.

“You’re a fuckin’ cock tease.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

Nero tries to pull the gun from him; Avilio doesn’t let him. Nero’s too drunk to have all the coordination that he needs, and Avilio’s too much a bastard to give what he wants easy. _Easy_ is Nero’s job… Avilio’s is being picky. Being a _tease._   Deny a man what he wants long enough and he’ll eat out of hands for scraps just to get what he wants…

He points the gun at Nero – not at his head, but at his cock. He presses the muzzle there, _in,_ pressure against hard flesh and Nero moans for him when he does, staggers. His hands come to Avilio’s shoulders to steady, his weight sinking Avilio into the bed as Nero looms over him. Avilio watches, loves how easy it is, loves how Nero is just too fucking easy to _play._

Is it wrong of him to find it erotic? Maybe. Maybe it’s him getting into the game. Who knows. It’s his rules, he’s allowed to enjoy it.  

“Who knew you were into shit like this?”

“Could say the same about you. Come on, Avilio…”

He can feel the twitch of cock through the gun, how the interest pushes back against it. Nero’s asking for it – he wonders how long he’ll ask nicely.

Up, up, he drags the gun against the arch of cock beneath clothes. He ends where the head should be, where it threatens to peek over the hem of Nero’s pants. Avilio circles it there, revels in the harsh breaths that blow his hair out of place and the rock of Nero’s hips against his gun. How fucking perverse. He could blow Nero’s cock off if he wanted and there he is, rocking into it like he’s got an eager head between his legs.

“What would your father say if he knew he handed his empire over to a man who fucks other men… and likes his cock at the mercy of a gun?”

“He’d say at least I’m getting action somewhere. Who the fuck cares?”

_You should. You will._

“Hm.”

He lets the muzzle of the gun caress along Nero’s cock some more. Nero groans, head falling to rest atop his own. Avilio sucks in a breath at the pressure of Nero’s fingers digging into his shoulders. It feels good, and it shouldn’t. He’s the one supposed to be making Nero squirm.

He shoves Nero away from him, like it’s nothing and Nero is, too. He keeps his gun pointed at Nero and draws his leg up to plant his foot in Nero’s gut. He wants him down, wants him –

“Get on your knees.”

Nero pants. His chest heaves. Avilio wonders for a moment if he’ll do it or if he’ll try to take – just a moment before he’s rewarded with Nero sinking down to the ground before him. Nero looks up at him, _wanting,_ and he thinks of how simply he could end their game where they are, right where Nero is knelt between his legs looking like a fucking _dog_ waiting for a bone.

_I could execute him right now._

It’d be as easy as a bullet to the brain. But he doesn’t do that. He nudges the muzzle of the gun beneath Nero’s chin and draws him forward, a moth to light. His foot settles from Nero’s gut to draping his leg over Nero’s shoulder when he’s close. He almost smirks when Nero presses his cheek to his thigh, nuzzles his way up obediently.

Avilio holds the gun to his forehead when he gets too close to his cock.

“Are you gonna make me grovel?”

“I was thinking about making you beg.”

“You’re cruel. You weren’t so mean the first time.”

_Perhaps I should have been._

Avilio doesn’t answer him. He lets the gun trace the arch of Nero’s forehead, down the side of his face, back under his chin to settle. He leans forward, into Nero’s space. He watches how Nero’s teeth bite down on his lip, how Nero’s nostrils flare and the anticipating shake in Nero’s shoulders.

The alcohol hits his nose and then his tongue and it’s almost intoxicating in its strength. Almost more than the feeling of the gun in his hand and the power it gives him over Nero.

He kisses him. It’s not loving, never is. Not when he’s got his gun at Nero’s throat and Nero’s not interested in soft shit, anyway. He bites. He tugs. Nero moans and rises from the floor before he can order him to stay. It’s his back against the bed and Nero’s cock between his legs. It feels good. It shouldn’t. But this is his game and his rules and maybe he’ll bend them a little just to keep it up.

His hand quivers and his fingers twitch once more at how easy this game is and how easy it’d be to pull the trigger while Nero’s none the wiser. While he’s fucking his mouth the way his hips rock against his own. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last.

“What is it that gets you off?” Avilio breathes out as he pulls from Nero, slightly, gun still in hand. “The fact I could kill you if I wanted or is it just the gun?” He thinks he knows the answer, waits for one anyway. Nero pauses, needs to take the time to think with head and not his dick.

“It’s the fact you could, but you’re not. You like me too much.”

_Really?_

Nero’s hands move to his clothes and he doesn’t speak. He can’t tell if it’s anger or disbelief that flares up in him. Nero’s so sure he won’t kill him… He’s tempted to prove him wrong, with the bastard on top of him, looking for a fuck as he gets off to a gun kissing his temple.

He doesn’t. He says nothing – rolls them over, instead. Back on top, where he belongs. His game, after all. His game where he’s always in control, always on top. He points the gun at Nero’s head again and as he straddles him, lets his hand fall to his cock over his pants. It’s hard, thick, eager as its owner. He thinks maybe Nero will try to stop him, try to get back on top, but he doesn’t, not this time.

There’s a smirk he doesn’t hide as he strokes Nero overtop his clothes. As he drags that gun down once more, he scoots back just so to let the muzzle take over for his hand. Stroke for stroke, letting it glide over Nero’s cock as the other rolls his hips into it. Nero’s head falls back, eyes closed and mouth slack.

“Shit…”

Nero sounds like he’s getting fucked, all gruff-groaned and ruined in the back of his throat. Avilio presses the gun harder, making the friction and the pressure hurt. Nero gasps at it, pressed his cock against the gun harder.

“Just like that –”

It’s an idle thing, sliding his own hand in his pants as he watches the way Nero writhes under him. At his mercy. Unknowing to the fact that his pleasure comes with a real danger and it’s Avilio’s choice whether or not he comes out of it. He strokes himself, hand moving in time with his gun, building it up, making him –

They cum together. In a different context, perhaps that’d mean something. In this one, it means the game is over, for now.


End file.
